Needs
by Funeral.Bell
Summary: Prompt fill. On the night before Easter, Jack escapes into hiding to relieve his problem caused by his infatuation over Bunnymund. —Jackrabbit


**A/N**: Instead of coming up with an idea of my own (I couldn't think of anything, I was completely braindead;;) I decided to do a prompt fill, but the prompt got filled when I was halfway done and I was already like, oh well, might as well still do this. The prompt is below for anybody possibly curious.  
**Extra note**: I never read the books (now that I watched the film, I'm very tempted to read the series) and have limited knowledge to certain aspects (especially Aussie slang) but bear with me. Characterizations might be slightly off, but hey, attempts are never a bad thing either aha;;  
**Warning**: As stated above, this fic includes (very poorly written) masturbation a.k.a some weird race of bunny helping a poor 300+ year old walking popsicle getting off. God help me with the egg thing though, I'm going to try to see if I can fit that in, but I can't make any promises because, wow, I'm only aware of one or two things you use them in any sexual situation depending on the course of the scenario?  
**Prompt**: _I honestly don't care why how or what happens afterwards, I just want Bunny to walk in on Jack, erm, jacking off_  
_+10 if he's moaning Bunny's name_  
_+100 if Jack can't finish himself off (cold hands, overheating, w/e)_  
_+10000000 for sexual use of an Easter Egg_  
**Disclaimer**: I have no ownership of the Rise of the Guardians movie. I'm just a mere newbie of a fan;;

* * *

_Needs_

* * *

The color scheme in Burgess during spring called for an array of greens, darker greens, and a debatable splash of yellow—that, regardless, appeared as another tint of green—to fit the atmosphere for the annual Easter egg hunt, the street lampposts banners where found at nearly every intersection to remind youths and adults alike to attend the event. It felt like an odd transition to celebrate Easter a year after the fight with Pitch, but Christmas settled nicely in the same year, and every other holiday fell into place just the same – normally Jack would be fully willing to bring a little snowfall for the spring season, but he decided to restrain his temptation to spur a little _fun_ for Bunnymund, after all the pooka deserved it after the trouble caused last year. Bunnymund would send Jack a fiery glower if the winter spirit brought up the desire to see his smaller, rabbit-like form again; it was such an embarrassing moment for the pooka that he most certainly did not want to relive.

Jack also decided that Easter felt a little strange because he tried to keep his emotional conflicts at bay and did everything to avoid any connections related to the impending holiday rather than joining the enthusiasm: during Christmas, he was eager to accept North's invitation to ride the sleigh, beaming a wide, childish grin when he was allowed to deliver presents to sleeping children, that feeling of delight that kids were dreaming peacefully—Jack paid his thanks to Sandy as usual—while he was able to set a present under their trees. Before he departed, he would take a moment to appreciate their warm, innocent smiles, and could only imagine their excitement waking up the next day to snow and gifts. Toothiana had no holiday, but occasionally he would embark with Baby Tooth to collect some teeth for her—he had to be reminded every now and then to tuck a quarter before he reached the next house—and he could confidently say his reflexes was improving from every occasion he had to duck before she could pry his mouth open to admire his healthy, milk-white teeth. Every so often he would spend quality time with Sandy one way or another through nightly duties, whether it was for ordinary days, tooth collection volunteering, or holiday nights. Sandy was always pleasant company, and just like he was improving his swift dodges against Toothiana, he was beginning to decipher Sandy's more cryptic dream sand images.

His relationships with the other guardians improved significantly compared to their first encounter, but as of recently Jack began distancing himself after a _certain_ feeling arose that he thought he quelled after years and years of batting the sensation away. However, after pinpointing the root of his problem, he rode the north winds to the forest until he could breathe a sigh of relief he was a relatively safe distance away from the town.

He was the guardian of fun, a winter spirit, an embodiment of playfulness and frosty chills, but he was still _young_ compared to the long age spans of the other guardians, and being young meant having _needs. _It could be a small attraction for other humans during his first century alive, and although it was short lived it was never suffice, but in his third century his temptations were better controlled up until this point.

_Bunnymund._

Jack groaned under his breath when realization dawned on him that he became progressively attracted to the pooka. No, it couldn't simply be just another human, it couldn't be Toothiana—who would have been more than delighted to accept and return the same sentiments—it had to be an overgrown rabbit that was prone to bicker with North over the better holiday, that appeared truly at ease painting eggs in various intricate shapes and patterns, and had a voiced laced with a thick, Australian accent that was rich to hear even if it was to spout a sour remark or two.

The frost was beginning to form on the shell of Jack's ears – here it comes, that feeling was overwhelming him yet again.

The north winds brushed his silver fringes, and with a lopsided smile Jack waved his staff to bid the winds farewell for awhile. His large, cerulean eyes scanned his surroundings; absently he twiddled his staff in his hand, his bare feet padding through the greenery in search of his usual refuge. The foliage grew since his last visit but remains uninhabited and untouched, the thick layer of frost eventually melted away from the outer rimming of the dark, medium-sized abode.

Ducking his head to enter through the shallow opening, he crept closer into the darkness, feeling around with his feet for a comfortable spot despite the jagged little rocks pressing into his toes.

"Alright," Jack muttered quietly. Exhaling through his nose, he situated himself on the barren dirt, set his staff aside, pressed his back against the cold wall—not that any form of cold could personally affect him anyway—and briefly eyed the exit of the cave before beginning.

"Time to get this done with," he told himself, his voice dipped low and almost guttural.

It always began by relaxing his stiff muscles, occasionally shifting to temporarily alleviate the tightness in his pants – he tried not to masturbate frequently so he could create the picture perfect composure around the guardian of hope, and more importantly with the other guardians so they would never suspect he was plagued by his urges, by his frequent _wants_. Only once in a conversation with Bunnymund did Jack's attention ebb away, a flood of memories of nights spent touching himself captured his focus completely that he remained unaware of the frost escaping his body, his alabaster skin delving into a very light, very faint bluish hue, and it was only until he heard an indignant huff from Bunnymund that he was startled back to reality: he was expelling tiny ice crystals to form under the pooka's hind legs.

Much to Jack's relief, the pooka assumed it was another little prank, to which he laughed nervously in response, apologizing sheepishly that it was definitely a joke.

Shaking his head to the recollection, his mind reeled in the details darkening the blue coloring his cheeks, a long networking line of frost crystallizing against the walls: those vivid set of green eyes that closely resembled the shadowed color of a weeping willows' leaves when the sun's rays cascade over the tree. The alluring, rich blue fur that was made for close comfort, like playful hugs—Jack would never blatantly ask Bunnymund for an embrace, he dreads the reaction he would receive—or cuddles, regardless of his need to thrive in chilly temperatures. And Jack knew under all that fur, if he ever had the chance to run his fingers through the thick tufts, was entirely pristine fine lines of toned muscle – there was the first shift this night, it was only a matter of time before his hands would be creeping along his wiry legs.

Bunnymund had such a nimble body that fit his staggering height, a long, narrow waist that was meant to be enveloped by arms. All those opportune moments Jack would race against Bunnymund to collect the most teeth would offer not only a perfect glance from the rear view—another shift—when he intentionally allowed the pooka to take the lead for a few wondrous seconds before becoming a speck in the distance, and then there was Bunnymund's smirk of confidence that was usually a well defined frown line after tolerating most of his antics.

And another shift.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jack lifted his hips off the dirt to shimmy out of his tattered pants, merely kicking them away when they hung loosely from his ankles. More icy particles began to form thread-like webs around his thighs; his nervous, fidgeting fingers bloomed with frost at the tips.

Being the winter spirit may have his perks, but it was such a hassle to actually feel satisfied from touching himself when he wanted to feel that certain warmth being touched by _other_ hands, or, in his unfortunate case,

by a set of paws.

* * *

Bunnymund wore a content grin: he had left Burgess for last, there was nothing like ending the day than seeing Sophie sound asleep, her dream sand projecting bunnies and eggs. With only three eggs left to hide, he settled for the forest: he made a few rounds around the park, and normally the egg hunt would cover the forest grounds. Bunnymund might have hid a few already; it would never hurt the forest to leave three more.

Bunnymund's nose twitched at the familiar scent lingering in the night, and it reminded him he has yet to see Jack for days, and it even brought a modest amount of surprise not even a speck of powdered white snow has yet to descend from the sky. Having only a pawful of eggs left to be hidden, Bunnymund reasoned with himself to waste a couple of minutes to see the guardian of fun after his sudden absence.

His ears twitched: the more he entered deep into the forest path, the more he could catch the mesh of Jack's heavy groaning, followed by an irregular pattern of labored breathing.

_'Did that bloke get into a blue?!'_ And that got the pooka onto his hind legs, leaping swiftly from moss boulder to moss boulder, the brisk winds rushing past his fur and _why is it so bloody cold_, it nearly compared to that one incident when Jack was expelling his frost that made the temperature drop instantly…

The sound and scent led him to a recluse area, the dark surroundings and thick layers of vegetation would have eluded him if it weren't for his keen senses, but it made Bunnymund hike an eyebrow for Jack's choice in hideouts-

"Bunny…" Jack mewled breathlessly. "Do-Don't st-_ahh haah_."

The pooka's ears twitched.

All the concern he had over the winter spirit dissipated,

ah

well now.

He peered down at his hind legs because it really did not take much to tap the ground three times to disappear into the warren, perhaps the opening hole into the earth may cause a disruption to pierce the still atmosphere and rouse Jack from his _personal_ activities—

"_Bunny," _Jack's voice echoed in the cave, a tantalizing sound beckoning the pooka to come forward.

—because it really was the best judgment for this type of predicament to simply leave.

* * *

At this point, Jack was too distracted to be disdainful of the moist mud and icy residue caking his thin calves, and too aggravated with his own embarrassment that formed the thin layer of ice on his palms. It slowly melted away within a few seconds, which was deemed acceptable enough for a quick lubricant to coat around his fingers – normally he tried to avoid succumbing to desperation to appease his needs so he could feel less guilty having Bunnymund the subject of his vivid imagination. Nibbling on his bottom lip distractingly, Jack regained himself to fold his legs underneath his thighs, and just as carefully, if not stiffly, dipped his torso forward, hiking his rear in the air as he descended.

Blowing a small gust of air to form a solidified lump of ice to serve as a platform to rest the corner of his mouth and cheek, he clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the ice on his hand to melt before prying his cheeks apart with his thumb and ring finger, gently Jack ran his middle finger around the lining of his hole quivering to the teasing touches. It was an uncomfortable position he was reducing himself into, but all that revolved in his mind was _BunnyBunnypleaseBunnytouchme pleasenngh _as he clamped his free hand around his throbbing shaft, the tip of his finger brushing the slit seeping beads of precum, a weary grin forming on Jack's mouth because _yesBunnyjustlikethat_. His own grasp sent a peculiar shudder down his spine, and definitely not for his own body temperature, but at his attempt to create the sensation of Bunnymund stroking his cock – it was still not _enough_, he could never capture the satisfaction to be touched by the pooka's furry, nearly human-like fingers.

His thumb ran soothing circles on the head to control his rapid breathing, resulting in a several lingering moans and needy calls for Bunnymund. Testing a few, cautious prods, his breath hitched as he slid the first moist finger through the tight ring of muscle. Hooking his finger within for a few moments left him breathing heavily, his tongue peeking from mouth as he applied a hesitant amount of pressure-

"B-Bunny! There, oh g—_more, please, Bunny!"_ he moaned with desperation, his words stretching in length and volume after finding that one spot that left him ragged, that left him wanting to scream for that area to be fingered without mercy, to be _pounded into _until he couldn't take it anymore. He opted to ride into his finger, his mouth chapping to visualize the closest ideal moment being fucked by Bunnymund – it was another feeble attempt that not even another digit would quench his sexual appetite, but it felt _amazing_ to slide into his finger rather than aimlessly pressing into his walls to stimulate a reaction.

A little dribble of drool escaped the side of Jack's mouth, and just when he was going to return his attention to his neglected penis, he was startled by the strong gust of wind rushing past his matted fringes—the ice under his cheek began to melt, the watery remains ruining any loose strands near the hairline—his eyebrows furrowing: _why_ were the winds entering the cave? Lolling his head to the side to have a proper angle to peer at the cavern opening, he felt something plummet in his belly, his state of mind trekking through a minefield whether to respond or to continue observing his visitor, his throat dry and scratchy to even formulate an explanation of the sort.

Trying to regain himself, Jack scrambled to release his hold on his member, absently smearing the cum that leaked around his palm on his knee, and it was unfortunate that he couldn't continue his progress—even if he wanted so much more than from his own hand—and with a quick jolt he sat upright. The outline of Bunnymund's body from the cave entrance became fainter as he drew closer, the steps taken blared in the winter spirit's ears, meekly he closed his legs together, and uncertain whether he could still make a quick getaway or avoid contact completely. "Look, uh, Bunny," he began, inwardly cursing his tone was muddled with anxiety and fear, "You weren't…You weren't suppose to hear any of that."

He did not earn a response, but he distinguished Bunnymund's movement: he was setting some objects in his holster, ensuring they were secured with several tugs, and began unfastening the strap and arm bracers, crouching down for a brief moment to set them aside. Jack, on the other hand, was panicking: was Bunnymund disgusted? At all disturbed? Was he going to be let down carefully because he was a guardian as well? Jack's toes curled into the dirt, his flashes of paranoia worsened when all he wanted was to sneak away—perhaps unscathed or not too disheartened over his first rejection, he did doubt Bunny would cause him physical harm but he was readying himself for all scenarios—and slip into his clothing because he could only take so much time exposing his naked lower half to the other guardian.

"How about we forget this all happened, yeah? Sound good, Cottontail?" Might as well try to slip a good-natured joke to ease the tension, or, at the very least, to ease his jittery disposition.

Bunnymund cracked an amused snicker, pleasantly enjoying the fright he was causing the mischief maker, but not cruel enough to disregard Jack in his state when he himself was more than willing to lend a hand. It was difficult not to form some affection for the winter spirit when he proved himself admirably in the battle with Pitch and as a guardian. Streaks of the moonlight's radiant glow illuminated a small portion of the cave, and if he moved to the left he could see glimpses of Jack's bare region, even the small specks of ice lining his body emanated a little glimmer. Jack was already nervous, so as alluring as it was to step aside completely, Bunnymund respected the unspoken boundary – however, if Jack was calling out to him, it would have been foolish not to respond accordingly.

The pooka was not seeking Jack as mere get-n'-go, he would never admit outright he grew a soft spot for the new guardian: Jack may love to tease him, be it sudden snow storms or their little tooth collection races, but his centuries alive were devoid of something Bunnymund could not particularly name. He paid little regard how Jack wormed into every guardian's heart over the year; going beyond their "friendship" shouldn't tamper their current relationship if the feelings were mutual.

"Don't think I can, Frostbite."

Jack blinked owlishly, absolutely bewildered. "Wait, what? Why?"

Instead of explaining, he simply ordered the winter spirit. "Stand up for a tick, Jackie."

Jack did as he was asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot, his eyes focused on his dirt-smudged toes than Bunnymund circling behind him, stopping short to set his furry hands on Jack's bony torso. The younger guardian shivered at the touch—_Bunny's_ _touch_—it was not just his cold hands spurring a reaction, but of those that was all warmth, _no ice_, and he would do anything to beg Bunnymund to continue the trail around his body – Jack was never in favor of heat sources, but without a second thought can Bunnymund become an exception. While Jack was absorbing the new sensations he thought would have never been possible, he hissed sharply when he was roughly brought back to the ground, and just when he was going to huff at the pooka he could have remained sitting all along, he quieted himself to make out their new compromising arrangement.

Jack faced the entrance; his back resting on pooka's luscious thick fur—he had to blink a few times because _god_ his shoulder blades were pressing through the fur and onto Bunnymund's prominent pectoral muscles. That successfully appealed to his painful erection—Bunnymund's arms enveloped over Jack's waist, hands resting on the winter spirit's inner thighs.

Bunnymund lowered his head on the crook of Jack's shoulder. "Open yer legs, will ya?"

Jack complied, clearing his throat; he shifted, and paused abruptly: something was poking him in the rear; _Bunnymund_ was getting bothered just as much as he was. "But what about you, Bunny? Um, I can help you out too? I mean, I won't do any good-"

"Not yer problem, mate." Realizing it sounded affronting, Bunnymund amended his previous comment, "Next time, Frostbite."

_'There is actually a next time?_ _Yes!'_

Bunnymund leaned a little closer, but not enough to hunch Jack's back into any form of discomfort, but enough so the glow of the moon can grant him a trace of light that could reach Jack's lower half to properly see than fumble around. Bunnymund disregarded the frost forming around his wrist, favoring his chance to listen to Jack's pleased sighs as wrapped his fingers around the spirit's balls, testing the sensitivity by brushing the skin with his thumb—and being careful not to accidentally scratch Jack with his claws—gauging an echoing groan as his fingers ascended to the base of the shaft.

"C'mon, Bunny!" pleaded Jack, squirming in place. He_ needed_ _more._

"Desperate, ain't ya?"

He did not stall any further to pump Jack's cock, enjoying every second Jack huffed, sighed, and released the most enticing set of moans that made Bunnymund just want to order the other guardian to raise his arse, to have the chance to get his fill and fuck Jack until he screamed for more force, until his voice got raspy calling his name over and _over again._ No, slow steps, Bunnymund reminded himself in his ministrations: this is as far as he would go today before Easter; he would not rush into their newly established connection.

However, he was free to roam tonight, and he would take full advantage of doing so.

Bunnymund's free hand crawled beneath Jack's blue hoodie, heaving a sigh of his own when he found a perky nub to flick. Then, without warning, Jack released his buildup, drips of his semen guzzling down Bunnymund's furred fingers, his stamina reaching a stage of exhaustion, and he instantly became eternally grateful of Bunnymund's fur to nestle his head in. Although Jack felt rather repulsed by the moist, foreign warmth on his crotch and legs, he wanted nothing more than to seize the chance to weave his fingers through the sleek, blue coat, perhaps trace the outline of the markings on the pooka's arm until he dozed off.

"Easter's not ruined, is it?" He hated ruining the mood by bringing it up, but Jack knew better than anyone he did snatch Bunnymund's time from his holiday preparations for tomorrow.

Bunnymund reassured him everything was sound for Easter; the preparations were complete except for the three eggs he could hastily hide when the sun rises. Relieved, Jack's eyes fluttered shut; his excitement for the next day drained the little energy he had to remain awake.

* * *

**A/N**: Do you ever just take a moment to think of the pairing choices you've made? 'Cause I don't and boy do I feel swell I got this off my chest.

/so much for the egg… I'm sorry I couldn't add it;; (every freakin time i mention moon in this omg i keep thinking MiM is actually helping Bunny out dfghj jfc)


End file.
